


Just a touch...

by theconsultingstrangevidder



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, F/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Platonic Soulmates, Post TFP, Post series 4, Romantic Soulmates, mary is alive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:58:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9610517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theconsultingstrangevidder/pseuds/theconsultingstrangevidder
Summary: Because of course he was Sherlock Holmes. He doesn't do the things other people do. He was different. He was...special. So it was only natural for him to have not two but three soulmates.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea i had after i stumble on tumblr on a list about all the Soulmates AU we could use for fanfiction, and i found some of the ideas really interesting, although i took a few liberties with that. This story was supposed to be a one shot, but alas there are going to be two parts. Not beta read. Everything right and wrong is all mine.

It wasn't a big deal really. Everyone in the world has two soulmates. One soulmate that their bond was meant for friendship. Brotherhood or sisterhood. Companioship. And one soulmate that was meant for romance. Love and lust. Very annoying if you asked a certain consulting detective.

Because of course he was Sherlock Holmes. He doesn't do the things other people do. He was different. He was...special. So it was only natural for him to have not two but three soulmates.

And that what it annoyed him the most. He didn't had time for soulmates, either a platonic or a romantic one. His mind was the most important aspect of his person, sentiment had absolutely no use for him.

Because that's the thing about soulmates. It's all about sentiment. Love and caring, and pain. He cared about his parents and his brother in his own way. Who decided that that wasn't good enough and he got three soulmates?

People say that when you meet your platonic soulmate their aura would be either grey or a light blue. And you would only find out who was the one person that was meant to be the one you'll care for them the most, only by touch. Only then their aura would be revealed to you, with the colors of red or yellow. By a simple touch on their hand.

It was useless. That's what he believed. At least until the moment he first met his now best friend John Watson. It turned out he was the one of his three soulmates. When he entered the lab with Mike that day at Bart's he saw the other man's grey aura. And then they became flatmates and started fighting crimes and criminals together.

So it all began against his wishes. With John's company he began to change. He learned how to control himself a little bit more. At some point he started to wonder who could be his one and only soulmate. The one that he was supposed to love the most. But he did vanished this thoughts of his mind almost just as they came to him.

When he first met Irene Adler he thought that he found his soulmate. But when they touched that night at Baker Street in front of the fireplace, nothing happened. He couldn't help but feel rather relieved then. The Woman wasn't someone that he could imagine himself living with. She was attractive and intelligent, and he did felt attracted to her, yes. But a soulmate is supposed to bring out the best out of someone. Is supposed to make you want to be better for them. But he and Irene only seemed to bring the worst out of each other. In the end a night a Kharachi was all they needed to fully realize that their intense physical attraction was just that and nothing more.

He thinks that deep down he always knew who was his soulmate. That's why he always avoided to touch her. Even when she was bringing him coffee, he made sure to take the cup from her hand without having to touch it. When she was helping him in the lab and she was giving him the petri dishes, he was carefull to not touch her.

But it still surprised him when he realized that he made her feel insignificant to him. Because truth be told he never thought of her like that, even though he understood what made her think that way. Most of the time he was distant with her, and he was flirting her when he wanted something from her. The biggest surprise was that she saw through his facade. No one was ever able to do that, not even John, and sometimes not even Mycroft.

She wasn't resentful towards him the night she told him that she doesn't count. But he resented himself for making her think that. And that was partly the reason why he asked for her help the night before his fall. The other reason was that he couldn't bear to let her think that he would be dead. He needed her to know the truth. Not that he would ever let himself to admit that, nor will he let himself to think why.

Even then he refused to touch her skin even for a second. He said goodbye, shaked her hand after he made sure that he was wearing his gloves, and he got out of the door in her flat, trying not to look back at her and her big beautiful and sad brown eyes.

It was the day he returned back in London, after two years away and from being dead, when he went to see John and reveal the truth to him about his fake death, that he met his second platonic soulmate. John's future wife, Mary Morstan. In all honestly he should have seen it coming when he found out that Mary wasn't a simple nurse but so much more. His best friend was an adrenaline addict, Sherlock himself was a junkie that was solving crimes as an alternative high, why the hell shouldn't Mary be an ex proffesional assassin? And a damn good one too?

When later that same day of his return found out that Molly was engaged with another man, he couldn't help but feel dissapointed. In the two years away, he found himself thinking about her more and more, her presence in his mind palace getting stronger and stronger. Every time he was in danger she was guiding him into survival and life. He was ready to ask her out for a date, and in a way he did. He spent an entire day with her, solving crimes. But that was it. Once again, he didn't touched her. He never touched her. What was the point now that she was with someone else, ready to get married. One day solving crimes with her, and two kisses in her cheek was all he let himself to have from her, even if she didn't know it.

Since John and Mary's wedding in his life came upside down. Loneliness drove him again to drugs, a case that turned out to be even more complicated when he found out Mary's real past, a fake relationship in order to get close to her boss Charles Augustus Magnusen since he was his case... And a murder when he realized that there wasn't another way to protect John and Mary from this man. An exile that lasted only four or five minutes thanks to his arch enemy that was supposed to be dead for two years. And as it turned out, he really was.

And now, one more year later, and there he was. In a cab just before dawn, only hours after Musgrave and the return of his long forgotten sister on the facility she's been held for years, looking out of the window, his mind a complete mess. He couldn't concentrate in just one thing, everything that has happened to him ever since he was a child until now that his memory was restored, coming and going in complete disarray into his mind palace. One moment he was playing again with Victor and the next he was jumping off the rooftop of Bart's, landing in the floor of the Woman's bedroom after she drugged him, her above him with a riding crop caressing his face.

He groaned and rubbed his face and hair trying to pull himself together. He glanced across of him in the cab, seeing John & Greg, both of them pretending that they didn't stared at him the whole time, waiting for his mental breakdown, which he guess wouldn't be so surprising to happen after everything he learned that day. He closed his eyes firmly, and he entered again his mind palace. It was still a mess but he didn't pay attention this time. This time he walked through the mess, his eyes never leaving this one door. The only door that was important to him at this moment. As he got closer and closer the more calmer he felt. And when he finally got there, he raised his hand to open it.

It was in that moment, right before the door was open, where Greg shook him out of his mind palace. Sherlock glared at him but he didn't seemed to be worried about it.

''We are arrived Sherlock. You are home.'' he said. 

Sherlock let a breath of relief, his body relaxing, but he got tensed again when he looked outside and realised that he wasn't at Baker Street or even at John's house.

''Why did you bring me here Greg?'' he asked turning to look at the detective with another glare. 

''You need to talk to her. The sooner the better if you want my opinion. I know that if you let this for another day you will just try to find ways to avoid it.'' said Greg not backing out from Sherlock's glare.

''Now the sooner you'll get out of the car, the sooner will John be at his house and his wife and daughter, and i at my home to let myself collapse and sleep for three days straight. Get the hell out of the car, and go to talk to her. Tell her everything. And for the love of God... go get her.'' he finished with a glare of his own.

Sherlock had to confess at least to himself that he was a bit taken aback from Greg's outburst. He turned to look John but from the way he looked at him in return, it was obvious that he didn't only agreed with Lestrade, but he was probably in the whole scheme with him from the beggining. So without a word he got out of the car, not bothering saying goodbyes or goodnights to his two irritating friends.

He put his hands into his pockets to cover them from her, to stop the shaking that started again, to not let her see the cuts. For some reason, he doesn't really know how he got at her door, he doesn't remember walking. He didn't know how long he stayed there just staring at the door. Could have been five seconds or could have been five hours, time was irrelevant. But in the end he did it. He raised his hand and knocked on the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it. Please leave a comment if you want, i would like to know your opinion.


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